


Lazy Sunday - Malcolm's Perspective

by sobefarrington



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Children, Gen, M/M, Malcolm Tucker - Freeform, Ollie's Nephew, Ollie's Nieces
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 06:59:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1257148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sobefarrington/pseuds/sobefarrington





	Lazy Sunday - Malcolm's Perspective

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elusive_aspects](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elusive_aspects/gifts).



“I’ve got my sister’s kids over. I can’t really leave them Glen.”

Malcolm could feel his face get hard, his anger and annoyance seeping to the surface already. He knew what the outcome would be. He hid behind his newspaper, listening intently and ignoring the news.

“No there isn’t really anyone I can leave them with.”

Malcolm rustled his paper, turning the page with the kind of force that let Ollie know he was not going to left in charge of three kids for the afternoon. 

Malcolm could feel Ollie looking anxiously at him, hoping he would offer Ollie an afternoon of free child care. He furiously denied with eerie silence.

“Let me see if I can’t get a neighbor to watch them for an hour. I’ll call you back. Yep. Yeah, five minutes.”

The call ended and Malcolm felt the younger man move through from the kitchen doorway into the living room in Malcolm’s direction.

The children continued playing their game of running between the living room and dining room via the kitchen, unaware that a conversation was starting between the adults.

“Babe.”

Ollie voice rang out in bells, trying to work its way into the place where Malcolm couldn’t refuse him. Malcolm knew this. He’d anticipated it and had already started to build up the walls.

“Do not come at me with that tone of voice Olls. You are not dumping these kids on me while you run out to rescue that flaming fartbag Glen.” Malcolm attacked, choosing his words a little more carefully on behalf of the children.

This didn’t seem to matter, as one of them ran past in that moment.

“UNCLE MALCOLM SAID A BAD THING.” 

“Luke, what have I told you. He doesn’t like it when you call him Uncle.” Ollie scolded the youngest of the three.

Malcolm couldn’t remember a time he told Ollie he didn’t like being called ‘Uncle’. He chalked it up to a personal issue on Ollie’s behalf and never argued with it. The kids didn’t listen to Ollie anyway.

Luke ran off to chase his sisters. Malcolm knew he hadn’t paid much attention to anything Uncle Ollie had just said. He would call him Uncle again before the day was through.

“He needs help.”

“You could say that a-fucking-gain.”

“UNCLE MALCOLM SAID A BAD WORD.” Jessica yelled as she darted between the two grown men.

“Jessica!” Ollie called out to her.

“Ollie. It’s not happening.”

Malcolm didn’t often use his ‘work voice’ at home. In fact, he took great strides to keep those two factions of his life separate. It did, however, occasionally crossover – what with his living with Ollie in all. But they did their best. It was the odd moment like this that did them in.

Malcolm felt Ollie sighed internally, seeing the resolve in the way he moved towards him. How he knelt at his feet. Malcolm went back to his paper, creating the physical barrier between them again. Ollie put his hands on Malcolm’s knees. He felt the warmth in Ollie’s hand as it ran up his thigh. He latched onto Malcolm’s wrist, bringing it and the paper back down to his lap. 

Malcolm was ready to give his other half a cold dead stare. The paper, and his hands, dropped to his lap and Ollie looked right into him. His eyes were full of longing and passion. The kind of stare that burrowed into Malcolm’s heart and started to melt it. It was the look that Malcolm fell head over heels for. There was no denying Ollie when he put the face on. Malcolm did the only thing he could do in that situation. He kept silent.

“Babe please. Do this for me. I’ll owe you.”

Malcolm’s cold persistence was gone. If Ollie had asked him to murder the PM in that moment he well might have.

“One hour. Olls I swear if you’re any longer.” was all he could muster in that moment.

“They’ll be angels for you I promise.”

“One. Hour.”

Malcolm went back to his paper the moment Ollie stood and started to ready himself. He worried he had agreed to more than he could tolerate. He listened past his reading, hearing Ollie speak to the kids, giving them instructions not to bother Malcolm for anything. Telling them to just play and pretend like Malcolm wasn’t even there.

He had to admit to himself that it hurt a little. Malcolm did enjoy having Ollie’s nieces and nephew over every once in a while. He liked the sound of a full house. He just didn’t like the responsibility. He wasn’t good at caring for children. 

Children weren’t like the people Malcolm was used to surrounding himself with. He spent his days manipulating people to producing an end result that best worked for the party. Adults were a special breed. Malcolm knew how to work them.

Children. Children were different. It was harder to buy and bribe them. Harder to predict them. Read them. Anticipate moves. Malcolm couldn’t plan his day with children. His day just kind of happened. He wasn’t very good with that.

It had been several minutes and Ollie had just managed to make it out the driveway. Malcolm knew he had muttered something as he left the house, but he was so wrapped up in trying to anticipate the children’s needs and prove Ollie wrong that he’d missed it. Malcolm figured it wasn’t important, and tried to go back to his paper.

He had turned the page, finding an article about primary schools in their area that mentioned Nicola in brief. He started the article as the girls ran past him, coming from the dining room. The article didn’t interest him personally, but it gave him a few ideas.

Malcolm’s train of thought was interrupted by a short, loud shriek, a crashing of glass, a splatting of liquid, a hard thump and crying. Everything happening just a fraction of a second after the thing before. 

Malcolm bolted upright, out of his chair. He left the paper behind and followed the sound into the kitchen.

Luke was on the floor, tears pouring down his face. He was sitting in a lake of green Kool-Aid, surrounded by broken glass from the pitcher that held the juice.

Sarah and Jessica hovered over him, sheltering him from whatever wrath was bound to come his way.

Malcolm’s heart grew ten sizes and attacked his person, trying to push through his chest cavity and escape his body. He’d never felt such concern over someone who wasn’t himself before. All three children looked more frightened than hurt. And that hurt Malcolm.

“Are you alright?” were the words that left him.

Luke continued to sob to himself, leaving Jessica to answer for him.

“He cut his foot.”

“Right. Better get that sorted then. Careful girls.”

Malcolm pussy footed his way through the juice and glass, guiding the girls out of the mess so they didn’t hurt themselves before reaching down to pick up Luke.

The boy was small for five, skinny. Ollie had told him once before that he was born premature and had spent a few days fighting for life. He wasn’t sickly, but it was hard to tell without knowing him. The girls protected him like a puppy. And Malcolm was the big bad wolf.

He lifted the boy from the mess in the kitchen, one arm under his knees and the other at the boy’s back. Luke put his arms around Malcolm’s neck and buried his face in Malcolm’s shoulder. He cried without care or consequence. Malcolm didn’t know if it was out of pain or fear. He didn’t ask.

“Sarah. The closet in the hallway has a red first aid kit on the second shelf. Bring it to me please.”

Please. Malcolm thought. There’s a word I haven’t used in a long time.

Without sound Jessica was gone, heading for the hallway and the closet Malcolm had mentioned.

“Jessica dear, can you get a wash cloth from the bathroom cupboard and wet it with warm water please.”

“Okay.” 

The girls returned quicker than the running they had done previously that day. Malcolm took the red case from Sarah and put it on the table. Jessica handed him the damp cloth and he pressed it gently to Luke’s bloody foot.

Luke winced and buried his face in his hands. Malcolm hadn’t applied any pressure, but the warm water was enough to worry the child. Malcolm instantly thought of a story to tell.

“You know Luke, I cut my foot once too. When I was ten. It was really bad. A lot worse than this. Blood everywhere.”

Luke looked up and wiped his eyes. They were red and still wet, the child furiously trying to blink the tears out of existence. Malcolm continued to distract Luke with his story, cleaning and bandaging his foot in the interim. 

“I was playing in my Nan’s garden and I stepped on a shovel in the grass. Sliced my foot right open. Had to go to hospital and everything. It hurt really badly when it happened, and it hurt for a few days after. But by the end of the week it was good as new. I bet, with any luck,” Malcolm continued, sticking the last plaster to the small boy’s foot. “you will be up and running within the hour.”

Luke hadn’t noticed that his foot was patched up. Malcolm had to point it out before Luke gave a smile and stuck his arms out to be lifted off the table. Malcolm obliged, gently placing the boy on his good foot and waiting patiently for him to find the balance he needed to move on his own.

“Was that story a fib Uncle Malcolm.” 

Sarah was smarter than she seemed. Malcolm learned this the hard way almost a year ago when she caught him spinning truths at her mother’s Christmas dinner. He didn’t dare do it again when she was around.

“You want to see the scar?”

Sarah looked him in the eyes and nodded very dramatically. Malcolm didn’t offer any emotion, he simply removed his sock and stuck his foot out for the three children to see. 

Along the bottom of his right foot, trailing along from the mid-point of his foot up in between his index and middle toe was a line of pale pink scar tissue. 

The three children stared with the same puzzled awe. Sarah took the opportunity to poke it while Jessica asked questions.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not anymore.”

“Does it feel funny when you walk?”

“Nope.”

“Did you get a wheelchair when it happened?”

“No.”

“Can you tell us another story Uncle Malcolm?”

The last question had come from Luke, in a rather shy and unsure voice. He looked up at Malcolm, who lowered his foot and put his sock back on.

“The kitchen needs tending to first. After that we’ll see about some story time.”

Luke was satisfied with that answer and was assisted to the living room by his sisters without a word of direction from Malcolm.

He had assembled a mop and broom and took to picking up the pieces of glass big enough for him to get his hands on. Malcolm proceeded with caution, keeping an ear out for the kids in the other room, cleaning up the juice, finding smaller pieces of glass and mopping up the whole mess. He used the broom to check under the fridge and stove for smaller flecks that might have broken off and traveled. It took almost twenty minutes before Malcolm was satisfied that no one was going to step on a forgotten shard of glass. 

Malcolm returned to the living room to find the children sitting together on the couch against the wall, asking Luke questions about his foot and making sure he was feeling better. He had to smile to himself, Malcolm did. He wondered why he had worried so much about having the kids.   
He checked his watch. Thirty five minutes had passed. Ollie would be back shortly. A story or two longer and he could get back to his paper.

“Uncle Malcolm do you know any stories about dragons?”

Malcolm moved in their direction and took a seat on the couch in between Luke and Sarah. He only knew one story about dragons, and it wasn’t the most child-friendly.

The kids were persistent so Malcolm gave it a shot. He recounted the Targaryen story lines from Game of Thrones as cleanly as he could, with heavy emphasis on the dragon bits. They were enthralled and sat motionless through the entirety of his borrowed yarn. 

He played it out, adding his own little snippets, hoping Ollie would arrive back and interrupt their story time. But it proved impossible. Malcolm ran out of extras to include and ways to draw it out. He wrapped it up as nicely as he could, seeming to satisfy the kids needs for entertainment. 

Luke moved closer to Malcolm, throwing the older man off. He cuddled close and gave Malcolm a hug, wrapping his little arms around Malcolm’s rib cage. 

Malcolm felt his head clear. Whatever worry he had been left with, whatever upset he felt towards Ollie or aversion he felt towards the children was gone. Just vanished. He hugged Luke back, trying to reassure the boy who seemed to need so much of it. Malcolm would have done anything for those kids. He knew that now.

“I want to play dragons.” Sarah voiced.

“Me too.” Jessica agreed.

“Knights and Dragons.” Luke added, looking up to Malcolm in the end.

“Knights and Dragons it is. And I think I have a plan. Follow me.”

Malcolm rose from the couch first, followed by Sarah and Jessica. Luke was intimidated by the thought of walking on his foot and lagged behind ten paces as they wound their way up the stairs and to the linen closet in the hall next to the guest bedroom.

Malcolm pulled the sheets out from the stack, going in for specific ones for each of the children before grabbing the one off the top for himself. 

The children followed him into the bedroom he and Ollie shared. Malcolm opened the closet doors and pulled a couple of belts from their hooks. He gave one to each of the kids, followed by a sheet. He helped them affix their new wardrobe overtop their existing ones, wrapping the sheet like a flowing princess gown or attaching it as a cape. The girls used the belts to hold their sheet dresses together, while Luke put his arm and one shoulder through, letting it drape over him as if he were to carry weapons with it.

The children raced back down the stairs, Luke following suit and forgetting about his foot. Malcolm followed behind them, tying his sheet around his neck and listening to the girls decide on what their princess names should be before deciding on Sarah, The Duchess of Cornbread and Princess Jessica PotatoHead. Luke just kept screaming about pasta. Without any input Malcolm was crowned Leopold, The Bravest Knight. And then the game began.

They ran about pretending to round up dragons and fight battles with neighboring places they made up. The town of Bolon, the country of Maple Syrup. Some place Sarah called Frey. Malcolm found a plastic sword from a Halloween costume Ollie was planning for and secretly passed it to Luke, who was now fighting off the dragons, which had somehow turned evil, to protect his sisters.

Malcolm’s job – as he was informed – was to guard the passage from Galley to Grundle (that being the country they were the royal family of) and only let through the people who were friends of country. It was the duty of Leopold to keep the enemies out.

Malcolm learned quickly that it was also his role to be whichever character they needed for their story at any given moment. He had to be instructed by the children a few times before he started to get the hang of it. Basically, he’d worked out, whenever one of them called a name he didn’t recognize, it was his job to answer them and agree to do whatever job they required. It called for him to get a lot of things to use as props.

The kids didn’t tire of Knights and Dragons. Malcolm wondered, if left to their own devices, if they would ever stop playing. It was well past the two hour mark – nearing three – when Luke finally declared they had beaten all the dragons. 

“We need to have a coronation street now.”

“It’s just coronation Luke.” Jessica reminded him, as if it happened often.

“He’s right though, we do need a coronation ceremony. I’ll get the crowns.”

Malcolm had been following along enough to know that once all the dragons were vanquished, Jessica was to become Queen, and the Duchess and Pasta would also get royal titles. And crowns.

They needed crowns.

Malcolm went into the kitchen and found what he could. Three sauce pots and a colander. Each of the pots looking like it would fit the children’s heads.

The ceremony started with Pasta, the youngest of the three brave soldiers of the Great Dragon Wars. Malcolm spoke a few words and Luke bowed his head, receiving his sauce pot crown and moving back to let Sarah take her place.

Malcolm spoke again, not noticing the headlights passing through the window and up the drive. He named Sarah the True Duchess of Cornbread and placed a pot on her head. She took a stand and flanked her sister, Luke checking everyone’s position and doing the same.

Jessica moved to the front of the pack and sat down on a pillow from the corner chair. She bowed her head and Malcolm spoke.

“Princess Jessica. Your courage during these wars had been resilient. Your encouragement had brought us out of the dark times we fought so hard through. Your country is better for having you. I now pronounce you, Queen Jessica PotatoHead the Second.”

Malcolm saw Jessica smile to herself, as though she were truly pleased to have beaten the pretend dragons. Malcolm had felt the same way.

And in all the excitement no one had heard the car driving up, or the door opening, of Ollie entering. 

Malcolm had begun to lower the crown onto Jessica’s head when he was grabbed by the wrist and yanked from behind.

“NO!! MALCOLM, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DO—“

Ollie had raced forward, latching onto his bicep and pulling him backward, away from the children. Ollie was sure he had snapped and was preparing to beat them to death, each one in turn, with a bit of cookery he’d dug out from the cupboard.

“—ing.”

Ollie was still holding Malcolm by arm, letting go once the older man had found his footing. Malcolm was dumbfounded. He wasn’t sure what Ollie was getting at. It took him a moment to come out of his play world and read the rage on Ollie’s face to realize that Ollie had walked in to see a man who manipulates people for a living holding a sauce pan over a little girl’s head.

“UNCLE OLLIE SAID A BAD WORD.” All three kids shouted in unison.

Malcolm was furious. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into Ollie, but he wasn’t going to have it ruin Jessica’s crowning ceremony. He wasn’t going to get away with it.

Malcolm turned to Ollie.

“On great job there Uncle Ollie, storming in here and ruining everything. How is Princess Jessica ever supposed to rule her kingdom now that you’ve destroyed the crowning ceremony.”

Malcolm turned back to the children, changing out of himself and back into Leopold.

“Oh Royal Highness, my sincerest apologies. It seems an absurdly rude and gangly ogre has invaded the castle. How would Your Highness like us to dispose of him?”

Jessica stroked her chin as she thought of a solution to their problem. Sarah cleared her throat, as if asking permission to speak.

“Perhaps your sister, The Duchess of Cornbread, has an idea.” Malcolm offered. 

“Thank you Brave Knight Leopold. Duchess, please share your ideas.”

“Maybe, it would be wise to put the ogre to work, cooking a meal for the royal family.”

“I second that motion.” Malcolm agreed. “Oh Princess Jessica, what does thou sayeth.”

“Earl of Pasta?”

Malcolm shifted his attention to Luke, and everyone else followed suit. Luke pulled his plastic sword from its sheath and knocked it against his pot helmet twice before screaming louder than he needed to.

“PASTA!!”

“Eye.” “Eye.” “Eye.”

Three affirmative calls to a proclamation of pasta. The royals had decided. 

“Well, if this ogre is going to cook anything, he’s going to need the cookery back.”

Malcolm could see the disappointment in the kids’ faces as they handed their helmets back to their Uncle Ollie. It hurt Malcolm too, having to return his colander. He was never allowed to be a prince or king or knight when he played those sorts of games as a kid. He was always either relegated to court jester or peasant. He make Ollie ask him four times before giving it over.

The kids finished cleaning the living room, putting away the sheets and other objects they’d grouped for their adventure. Malcolm was caught by Ollie returning some wooden spoons to the kitchen.

“Hey, wait.” Ollie called with a smile, reaching out for Malcolm’s arm as he had turned away.

Ollie pulled Malcolm closer, attempting to pull Malcolm in for a cuddle. Malcolm moved closer but kept some distance. He was still trying to keep up a ruse that he was angry.

“What happened today?” Ollie asked straight forward.

“What do you mean. Glen got a flat, the fucking imbecile.”

“What happened here today.”

Luke ran in unannounced and wrapped himself around Malcolm’s leg, squeezing the man with all the power he had in his tiny body.

“That was the best Uncle Malcolm.”

Malcolm’s face as he broke out into a smile. A genuine, broad faced smile. He could feel Ollie staring at him in wonderment, but he couldn’t be bothered by it. He patted Luke on the head, giving him a gentle half hug in return.

“It sure was Luke. Now go run off and bug your sisters while I talk to Uncle Ollie.”

Luke obliged, not even trying to argue to stay in the room. Ollie had always had trouble getting Luke to mind his own business.

“What was THAT? “

Malcolm shrugged.

“I like it when they call me Uncle Malcolm.”


End file.
